


An Idiot's Guide To Killing a Warlock

by Trying_to_sleep



Series: Merlin oneshots [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trying_to_sleep/pseuds/Trying_to_sleep
Summary: How to annoy Uther Pendragon, or the one where Merlin just won't die.
Series: Merlin oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708138
Comments: 5
Kudos: 158





	An Idiot's Guide To Killing a Warlock

The cell is cold and damp. The stone walls rise up for an eternity and the bars are impenetrable. Chains fall to the ground, shackled to the prisoner’s wrists and it’s the very image of horror.

Arthur doesn’t understand why Merlin is laughing.

He sits there on the floor while the king, prince and guards stand outside peering in confusion laughing. Cackling, Arthur is tempted to say, but then that gives him images of the evil sorcerers in tales he had been told as a child and surely Merlin isn’t like those? For one, he isn’t female, and he doesn’t have warts and green skin. Or a broomstick. Or a cat.

But still, the fact remains that Merlin is a sorcerer. Probably an evil one. According to Uther, he has been plotting the fall of Camelot for over four years. Arthur can’t quite bring himself to believe that.

Uther glares at him through the cell bars and Merlin stops laughing for a second to smirk and then start back up again.

Arthur doesn’t really see what’s so damn funny about being sentenced to death.

He walks away as Uther conducts an intensive interrogation session. He can’t bear to watch.

Later that night, Arthur makes his way down to the dungeons and heads along the corridor to the last cell. It is as hostile and dark as it was earlier, except for the ornate bed and feather duvet that Merlin is lying on top of. And the paintings that hang on the walls that Arthur is certain come from his own chambers. And the veritable feast set out on the floor beside Merlin’s bed. There are candles too, floating around and dripping hot wax everywhere.

Arthur blinks, but the image does not go away.

Looking up from his book which he has somehow acquired, Merlin smiles as he sees Arthur.

“Hello.”

Arthur can’t form speech. His mouth gapes open and closes again in a very un-Arthur like fashion.

“Would you like to come in?” Merlin asks and, with a flash of gold that Arthur will never get used to, the door to the cell swings open and Arthur is pushed inside almost by magic. Well, he thinks, of course its magic.

“Merlin…” he tries.

“Yes sire?”

“Merlin.” He says again.

“Arthur.” Merlin replies with a grin.

“Merlin!”

“Yes sire?”

“Merlin.”

“Chicken leg, sire?”

Arthur shakes his head in disbelief and takes the chicken.

“You do know you’re going to be executed tomorrow?” Arthur asks, halfway into a mug of mead. It may or may not be his third or fifth mug of mead. Merlin grins.

“I know.”

“You’re not…” Arthur’s drunk mind searches for the right word. “Worried?”

“Nope.” Merlin shakes his head with the certainty of someone who isn’t going to die in a few hours. “Not at all.”

It occurs to Arthur that Merlin hasn’t had a single drop of mead.

The next morning, Arthur finds himself back in his chambers and tucked up in bed. The room is completely and utterly free of any sign of Merlin’s chaos and the walls glisten, probably courtesy of George.

Arthur hates it.

He gets out of bed with an unsettling lack of a banging headache. He looks wearily out of the window, blinking away the cobwebs of sleep. He does a double take when he sees the pyre built and ready to go with guards patrolling around its perimeter.

He remembers everything.

Merlin. Magic. Execution. Cell. Feather duvet. Mead. Lots of mead.

The words don't make any sense together.

“Your highness?” a simpering voice interrupts him and he whirls round ready to scold Merlin. Instead, he meets George’s clean face and he hides a scowl. Merlin is in the dungeons ready to be executed.

At noon, Arthur is supposed to be outside next to his father and watching the execution. He is actually clinging to his bedpost as George tries in vain to get him to move.

“Tell Uther I will be watching from the window.” He growls. George nods in submission.

“Yes sire.”

Merlin is dragged out a few minutes before noon. Well, perhaps dragging would be the correct wording as he is actually pulling the guards with him as he walks briskly up to the pyre. He doesn’t wait for them to secure his chains and tie him to the post, doing it himself with a wordless flash of gold. Arthur waits with bated breath.

From his vantage point at the window in his chambers, he can see everything going on. Several people look away as the torches are lit and held to the dry wood. Arthur too looks away as the flames consume the wood and Merlin with it. He can’t watch this. He can’t.

It’s not right.

Arthur never thought he’d see Merlin on the pyre. He never thought Merlin was anything other than the clumsy bumbling servant, no, _friend,_ that Arthur had come to know. Now, he’s going to die before Arthur can apologise.

He closes his window and turns away because he can’t bear the inevitable screams so he doesn’t hear the laughing.

Gwen tells him about it later, her eyes wide. Apparently, Merlin laughed as the flames licked over him. Apparently, his body did not burn. Apparently, he’s back in his cell and waiting for Arthur to come and see him. Apparently, Uther is livid which is altogether unsurprising.

Arthur once again makes his way to Merlin’s cell where the sorcerer in question is lounging on his bed (Arthur knows he saw the guards take that away).

“Warlock.” He says as Arthur stalks in.

“What?”

“I'm a warlock. Not a sorcerer.”

“What?”

“War – lock. Warlock.”

“I don't care if you’re a bloody dragonlord!” Arthur yells. “Why the hell are you still alive?”

“It’s not hard to do a fireproofing spell.” Merlin reasons. “And I am, by the way.”

“You are what?” he sighs, knowing he’s going to regret asking.

“A dragonlord.”

Arthur collapses onto the very comfortable bed.

* * *

The next day, Uther announces that Merlin is sentenced to death again. He wastes no time in rebuilding the pyre and setting it alight. This time, Arthur watches although he doesn’t dare to hope.

That evening, the anguished annoyance of Uther Pendragon can be heard all around Camelot. Merlin nibbles on a pie in his cell.

On the Wednesday, Uther erects a chopping block and a man with an axe. Arthur winces when the axe hits Merlin’s neck, but he isn’t entirely surprised when his head just reattaches itself to his body and he jumps up, grinning. Uther has his head in his hands.

His next attempt at execution is another beheading which rather predictably fails. Through Uther’s screams, Arthur can see Merlin grinning. He shoots him a little smile back.

That night, Arthur finds Gwaine leaning on the bars of Merlin’s cell engaged in casual conversation with him. They’re talking about… something… involving rabbits, chickens and a five year old Merlin so Arthur can only assume that they’re comparing stories of troublemaking. This is confirmed when Gwaine subsequently launches into a spiel about a tavern.

Arthur watches them for a moment or two until Merlin catches sight of him and waves. 

“Arthur! Come and join us!” he grins. “I have mead.”

That is enough of an invitation for Gwaine who promptly strides inside the cell and wastes no time getting himself a mug of the stuff. Arthur sighs and joins them. He isn’t even surprised to see the guards there too.

“So,” Gwaine says five minutes later. “When’s your next execution?”

Merlin pauses in thought for a few seconds. “Tomorrow morning.” He says. “I think it’s hanging this time.”

“Is it going to work?”

“Nah.” Merlin decides. “I’ll just… teleport. Yeah. I should be able to learn that by the morning. Besides, even if it doesn’t, it’s hard to kill me anyway.”

“Watcha mean?” asks Gwaine who is slightly drunk.

“Well, I might be just a tiny bit immortal?” Merlin says, slightly unsure but entirely certain at the same time.

Arthur’s mug drops from his raised hand.

* * *

The next morning, Merlin’s execution fails yet again and Arthur greets him as he steps off the platform to go to his cell. The guards don’t bother restraining him at this point. It’s getting ridiculous.

Arthur certainly realises that Uther thinks that as he sees his father’s exasperated face and his barely restrained fury. Arthur almost ( _almost_ ) giggles at the thought of his father wreaking his vengeance on Merlin right here in front of the entire population of Camelot because Arthur feels sure that Merlin will find some way to make it unbearably humorous and he will almost certainly make a fool of Uther.

Which Arthur definitely doesn’t want.

Definitely not.

Nope. Not him.

Merlin smirks as he saunters off.

That evening, there is a loud bang from outside Arthur’s chamber doors. Looking up from the speech he is being forced to write without Merlin, Arthur is very slightly shocked to see the sorcerer…

“Warlock.”

“Can you read my mind or something?”

Merlin is silent.

“Merlin!”

“Sorry, sire. Dinner!” he announces and Arthur, rudely interrupted by his servant’s apparent mind reading, continues his inner monologue.

Where was he? Ah yes. Arthur is very slightly shocked to see the _warlock…_

Merlin grins. 

To see the warlock…

“Dammit, I forgot what I was thinking thanks to you!” Arthur shouts. “You’re an idiot, Merlin.”

Then it occurs to Arthur that maybe Merlin shouldn’t be in his chambers with a plate of food and that maybe he should be in the dungeons under constant guard from Uther’s best knights. Arthur blinks.

“Shouldn’t you be…”

“In my cell?” Merlin asks, finishing his sentence. “I guess so. I got bored and thought you might want some food.” He places the plate next to Arthur and goes to straighten his bed.

Merlin doesn’t even seem surprised when the alarm bell rings.

“I think that’s for me.” He says almost apologetically. “I have to go and be sentenced to death again. See you in the morning, Arthur.”

* * *

He does indeed see Arthur in the morning when he greets him with the usual “Rise and shine, prat!” which Arthur has been missing over the last week.

“Merlin.” he groans, turning over and hiding his face with the covers. Then he abruptly sits up. “Merlin!”

“Yes sire?” is the reply.

“Merlin, what exactly are you doing here?”

“Getting your lazy arse out of bed. “

“But aren’t you…” Arthur gestures lamely down to the chopping block in the centre of the courtyard and deliberately ignores the insult to his behind.

“Change of plans.” Merlin grins. “I can’t be bothered with execution today.”

“So why is there a massive crowd gathering outside and an executioner waiting with a large axe?” Arthur questions.

Merlin actually looks sheepish for a second or two. “It may have slipped my mind to inform Uther of my plans…”

“Merlin!”

* * *

By Friday, Uther has given up and Merlin gleefully informs Arthur that he is a free man and that Uther has gone to Gaius for a remedy for madness as he serves him his breakfast.

Well, serves would be a bit of a stretch. He plonks the inadequate food down and sets about undoing George’s work with a couple of offhand comments that Uther would never allow.

Arthur wouldn’t want it any other way. 


End file.
